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Switched
Chapter 3
The sound of a door chime woke Kathryn. After attempting to work through the night for a second night, she had fallen asleep on a couch in her ready room. As she moved, pain seared through her stiff neck and she grabbed it with a groan.
"Computer," she said, "what time is it?"
"The time is 11:27 hours."
Almost 11:30? She must have slept for six solid hours. It had only been 5 am when she last checked.
The door chime sounded again and Kathryn called out.
"Come in!"
The door opened and Seven of Nine came in.
"Seven," Kathryn said, rubbing her neck. "What can I do for you?"
"I would like to apologize," the former drone replied, "for my discourtesy last night. Commander Chakotay was right. There was more than enough food for the three of us. I should not have been so abrupt with a...friend."
"It's quite alright, Seven," Kathryn answered, suspecting this apology was more influenced by Chakotay's social etiquette than Seven's. "I was really not in the mood for a dinner party."
"I would like to make it up to you. How would you like to dine with me tonight? 19:00 hours?"
Before Kathryn could consider a reply, the Doctor's voice sounded over the comm.
"Doctor to Captain Janeway. Please report to sickbay."
At those words, Kathryn's stomach somersaulted. He had to have the test results.
"Are you ill, Captain?" Seven asked. Kathryn had turned as white as a sheet.
"No," Kathryn answered quietly. "I'm fine. I...Hold that invitation. Excuse me."
With that she left the ready room.
Although Kathryn wanted to run a million light years away from what was happening, she strangely felt drawn to sickbay like metal to magnet. As much as she didn't want to know the test results, she felt compelled to know them. And as she made her way quickly through the familiar corridors, quickly yet the journey passed so slowly, she hoped with all her being that the test had been for nothing, that she was and always had been Kathryn Janeway, daughter of Edward and Gretchen Janeway.
All too soon, yet not soon enough, Kathryn arrived at sickbay. The Doctor was in his office, sitting grimly at his desk, and as soon as she saw the look on his face, Kathryn knew the devastating truth. But until he had confirmed it, until his mouth actually said it, there was still hope...
"Captain," the Doctor said sadly. "Take a seat."
Kathryn made no argument this time, her legs were hardly holding her up.
"As you've probably guessed," the Doctor said as she sat, "I have the test result."
Kathryn fidgeted with her commbadge, the only visible sign of her inner turmoil. "And..."
The Doctor did not mince his words. "You are not the biological daughter of Edward and Gretchen Janeway."
Tears flooded Kathryn's eyes and for a moment she couldn't breathe...
"I'm so sorry," the Doctor said.
For a long time Kathryn said nothing, did nothing, then fighting back tears, she found her voice. "Then who am I?"
"According to the test result, you are the daughter of a Marette and Draye Brenton. More than that I cannot tell you. I was discreet with our request. I did not disclose that the DNA sample was yours. I simply asked for a parental DNA match. To learn more about this couple we will need to request information on them. I have searched Starfleet's database but there is nothing. Neither have ever been in Starfleet."
Kathryn desperately tried to absorb all this. "And you're sure," she said. "Absolutely sure that..." she was trying to say 'they are my real parents' but she could not say the words "...about this?"
"DNA doesn't lie," the Doctor answered. "They are your biological parents. No doubt we'll discover that this Marette Brenton gave birth to a little girl in the same hospital, at the same time, that Gretchen Janeway did. As I've said, mix-ups are rare, but they do happen." He paused. "But of course this discovery does not in anyway undermine the emotional bond you have developed with the Janeways."
"Developed?" Kathryn asked sharply. "You make it sound like I'm a stray dog they took in off the streets. I am a Janeway! I don't care if the DNA tests say otherwise. I am a Janeway! This Marina...or whatever her name is...means nothing to me. Gretchen Janeway is my mother and always will be."
"Of course she is," the Doctor replied. "And I have no doubt she will feel the same."
Kathryn flinched. "What? You think she might not? You think a DNA test can change 45 years of love?"
"No," the Doctor answered calmly, "but this will undoubtedly come as a great shock to her. She will naturally be curious about her biological child."
Kathryn felt as thought her heart and head were going to explode with pain. There was so much chaos in her thoughts, so much confusion. "Excuse me, Doctor," she said, getting to her feet. "I need time to get my head around this. I can't deal with it right now."
"I understand," the Doctor said sympathetically. "And take as much time as you need. For now, this information is just between us. After 45 years, a few days won't make much difference."
Alone in her quarters, Kathryn hugged a cushion and tried to hold back the tempest of emotions overwhelming her. Desperately she tried to calm the raging storm in her head, tried to steer the shipwreck of her mind through howling crashing seas, deafening thunder and blinding lightening to a safe harbor. Somehow, someway, she had to reach that port. Over a hundred lives depended on her doing so. She could not give in to the storm...she had to steer...had to focus...concentrate and focus...
"Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway...."
So much turbulence, so much mind-fog. Who was Captain Janeway? Not her. She was not a Janeway. And yet she was a Janeway. Every inch a Janeway.
"Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway. Please respond."
Mustering all her strength, Kathryn lifted her head from the cushion and answered. "Janeway here." Her voice sounded broken, even to herself.
"My invitation is still open. Do you accept?"
"Not tonight," Kathryn said quietly. "I...I'm busy."
"Tomorrow then."
"Another time," Kathryn replied. "Janeway out."
Without waiting for a reply she terminated the connection.
"Janeway to Chakotay..."
If there was one person who could help her reach her port, it was him. He was her harbor. He always had been.
"Chakotay here."
"I need to talk," she said. "Can you come to my quarters?"
"I'll be right there. Chakotay out."
Just the thought of him coming lifted something of the heavy weight pressing down upon her and Kathryn leant back against the couch. He always knew just how to steer her, always knew just how to reach the port...
In no time at all, the doors to her quarters opened and Chakotay came in.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Kathryn said. "I just...I have to talk..."
Chakotay sat down beside her. "As I said last night, I'm here whenever you need me."
Kathryn fidgeted with the fringe of her cushion, twirling and untwirling a frilly strand. So desperately she wanted to close the gap between them and lean into Chakotay's strong, safe embrace, but she did not. Never had she. And there was so much she wanted to say, but words seemed not to come. They never did.
"What's wrong?" Chakotay asked kindly.
"A couple of days ago," Kathryn began, "I found out something that I hoped with all my heart wasn't true but now I know for sure that it is...or almost for sure. I still can't quite believe it and there are so many unanswered questions." Tears filled her eyes. "And it's so painful that I can hardly bring myself to tell you..."
Tenderly, Chakotay reached for her hand and squeezed it. "In your own time."
"I'm not who I thought I am," she said. "I mean my parents are not...."
But before she could finish her sentence, Seven's voice sounded over the comm. "Seven of Nine to Commander Chakotay. You are required in astrometrics."
For a long moment Chakotay was silent and even through her foggy vision Kathryn could see a battle take place in his eyes. "On my way," he said at last.
The connection terminated and he let go of Kathryn's hand. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
As soon as his hand left hers, Kathryn felt she was adrift again, tossed and beaten by a ferocious storm.
"No," she said. "Don't go. I need you..."
But the words fell on deaf ears. He was already gone.
END OF CHAPTER THREE